


Always Welcome

by kleptinseptember



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, My First Fanfic, POV First Person, and if youre reading this you should know i love you, but dont kill me, so please let me know what you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23802529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleptinseptember/pseuds/kleptinseptember
Summary: I took my OCs and wrote them in an AU.This is self indulgent but I’ve always wanted to post something.It’s an AU where all the relevant characters are supernatural now. A vampire and an angel fall in love it’s pretty sweet. :)
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	Always Welcome

Rough hands shake me out of the most wonderful dream. What the fuck? Thankfully it’s still night so I straighten up from how I was sitting. The cold air feels like it’s drilling holes into my lungs. The man, who was probably the one shaking me, breathes out a sigh and slumps onto the bench beside me. 

“What the fuck was that for?” I can’t help but glare. Some random asshole just wakes me up then says nothing about it? He doesn’t even bother to reply. He just sighs again and looks up to the sky. Fog puffs out from between his lips. I yank the sleeves of my jacket down around my hands a little more. The winter really snuck up on me this year.

“Thank you.” He whispers up to the sky before turning his eyes on me. A smile spreads over his face. It’s so small but genuinely sweet. “Is there any place inside you can go?”

I scoff at the question. My sarcasm doesn’t fade even when the corners of his mouth threaten to pull down. “Oh, _yeah_ . I’m just sleeping on a bench in the park at night for _fucking_ kicks. Let me go back to my mansion. Sorry for bothering you.”

The park is filled with benches, at least one should be empty. I stand to go find one but blood rushes to my ears. Headrush. My legs shake a little as I try blinking the white spots from my vision. A deep ache starts in my heart and pulses outward. Trying to sleep off the hunger obviously isn’t working. The dollar hot dogs and slices of pizza have been slowing the hunger but not extinguishing it. There is no substitute for the monstrous craving that’s taken over.

“I was just heading to the diner around the corner.” The stranger says, his voice holding traces of the smile he wore. “Why don’t you join me?”

I spin to give him a leveling look. “So you can chop me to bits in an alley?”

“I heard they have a special on doughnuts and coffee between midnight and five, let’s see if they’re any good.” He completely ignored my protests. His smile is trustworthy and his eyes are kind. Somewhere inside will be warmer than here and some food will buy me some hours from the craving. I shrug and gesture for him to lead the way. 

We walk side by side to this 24-hour diner. He holds the door open like a gentleman. The floor is black and white checkered tile. I feel my lips curling into a grimace. The whole place screams ‘50s’. Red booths and records on the walls. The waitress smiles at him, calling him ‘Sweetie’ and leading us to his ‘usual booth’. 

He looks at the menu carefully, sitting there like we didn’t just meet twenty minutes ago. 

“These doughnuts do look really good. I think I’m going to get the jelly filled. What about you?” He folds the menu and places it on the edge of the table. I glance down at my menu for the first time. 

“Cinnamon?” It comes out more as a question. I’ve never had it before but it sounds good. Free food is better than no food, I guess. 

“That’s one of my favorites.” I just nod stupidly and keep looking at the menu as something to do. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I just talk this much when I’m tired, I can stop if you want.”

“It’s alright.” The irritation from being woken up has faded. Now that I think about it, this is the longest conversation I’ve had in weeks. “Sorry I’m not the best conversationalist.”

“I’ve always found that games make the beginnings go easier. Do you have any preference?” I just shake my head. “How about questions? I’ll go first, what is your favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Cookies and Cream.” He smiles at the response. Coming up with a question hurts my brain a little. I don’t want something too mundane or too weird. Then I realized something basic I’d never asked. “What’s your name?”

“Andrew.” He laughs a little, it’s a musical sound. “I forgot about that completely, I’m sorry. What’s yours?”

“Bernadette.” No use lying right? 

“What’s your favorite movie, Bernadette?” The sound of my name makes my heart flutter a little bit. I haven’t felt this in so long. There’s no use. I should leave this town soon anyway. Once I succumb to the craving I need to leave town.

“The Great Gatsby.” I can’t think of a good question to ask in return. “You?”

“The Shining.” He notices something over my shoulder and smiles. The waitress appears seconds later. “Two jelly filled and a coffee.”

“Predictable.” The waitress replies, her voice and eyes full of fondness for him before she turns toward me.

“A cinnamon doughnut and a coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course. Is that all?”

“Yeah, thanks, Rhonda.” He keeps the smile on even when she leaves. “Sorry, where were we?”

“The Shining.” I suggest.

“Such a wonderful movie. It’s truly a horror classic. Everything about it is perfect. The acting is so far above what I had expected and the…” I try to focus on his words but they sort of, wash to the side? I hear his voice, excited and happy, and watch his face. He is waving his hands to illustrate fine details about this movie I’ve never seen. His eyebrows draw together slightly in concentration. He is adorable. After a few minutes of him talking and me nodding along, the waitress comes back with our coffee.

“Thank you.” She just smiles and goes back toward the kitchen.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk that much.” He tries to smother the pink creeping up his cheeks with his hands. My brain must be empty because I just reach over and pull his hand down.

“I like hearing you talk.” I squeeze his hand but I don’t pull it away. He feels like a furnace. I know I’m always on the cold side but this is ridiculous. After he smiles a little and his cheeks return to normal, I pull my hand back to make my coffee. Just a little sugar. 

“Favorite color?” He asks but I’m too focused on his coffee to answer. He dumped five little cups of creamer and at least ten spoonfuls of sugar. Holy shit. A sweet tooth, I guess?

“Red.” It always has been. Even after the color made me think of thick, warm blood. It also makes me think of roses and blushes. Ti Morne and Sibella’s dresses. Enjolras’s coat and the flag he waves. Esmarelda’s scarves. The color of my childhood bed. My dad’s old pickup. “What’s a hobby of yours?”

“I paint.” He drinks from his mug. How can he do that with a straight face? “I’m trying to learn music.”

“Music? What kind?”

“I learned piano a long while ago so I’m trying to pick that back up. I want to learn violin too but I haven’t made much progress.” He waves his hand dismissivly. “What about you?”

“Theater things mostly.” When I’m not trying to not starve or run for my life. It’s what makes me live and not survive. I’ve been weirdly obsessed with it since I was a little girl. 

“Plays and musicals?” At my nod he asks, “Which is your favorite?”

“I’m not sure.” I drink some coffee to buy some time. It's sweet, then bitter, then sweet again, diner coffee at it’s finest. “I guess right now my favorite would be ‘A New Brain’. What’s your favorite drink?”

“Alcoholic?” I shrug. “Oh, I don’t drink. I really like Iced Tea.”

The waitress sets down our doughnuts with a smile and leaves again. We lapse into a silence. He eats it with the grace and mastery of someone who eats lots of jelly doughnuts. The sugar dust gets all over my fingers. Usually, eating quells the monstrous craving for a few hours, but it feels like I just swallowed the last bite when the hunger comes back.

I’m taking a sip of the vaguely lukewarm coffee when my senses are flooded with the smell of blood. My fangs drop into my mouth making everything feel crowded. The room feels like it's spinning. 

“Ow! Shit.” Andrew lets out a nervous laugh. “Bit my tongue.” 

I nod dumbly. He’s O- and has a slightly above average white blood cell count. O- tastes the best. I rest my head against the back of the booth. Breathe in slowly. Hold it for five, four, three, two, one. Let it out slowly. I can control the hunger. 

“Ready to go?” He rests his hand next to mine on the table. Once we leave I have nowhere to go. I need to find a place to rest through the day. Maybe I can find another subway rat. They taste so bad, like spoiled milk or gasoline. I pull my fangs back up with a wince. My head pounds with a headache.

“Are you alright?” Why does he care? Is the concern even genuine?

“Yeah, just a little headache.” I slide out of the booth slowly and he follows. He leaves a fifty as if the check was more than ten. 

“Do you want to come over to my place?” A startling red blush creeps up his neck and over his face. “I mean I have some Advil and a pull-out. Couch! It’s pretty comfortable, I don’t have any cats or anything if you’re allergic. It's just I really want to help you out. I’m new at this, I haven’t figured out my purpose yet so I’m just trying to be as sa-”

“Sure.” I cut him off. He is too awkward to be anything less than genuinely kind. Worse case scenario I should be able to get away. His grin spreads over his face, smoothing his expression from panic to calm. “Promise not to murder me?”

“Only if you promise not to rob me.” 

“Promise.” I stick out my pinky.

“Promise.” He laughs loud and loops our pinkies together. 

We walk back to his apartment, pinkies still linked. He tells me about his neighbors. A loud fashion reporter and her girlfriend. A carpenter and their two cats. His best friend in the building, a translator named Victor who was a few birds and a dog named ‘Tupitsa’. His building seems old. There is definitely something off about it...I just can’t put my finger on it. 

I pause at the door, “Are you sure I can come in?”. I think that is the best way to get the permission I need without it without sounding too suspicious. 

“Of course.” He bumps my shoulder lightly with his. “You’re always welcome.”

Funny. Almost like he knows that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. 

He unlocks his apartment and flicks on the light switches all without letting go of my pinky. The walls are light yellow and most everything is pastel or bright. It's so cozy and cheerful, it suits him. 

“Can you trust me?” He whispers quietly. I must be hallucinating or something. That’s such a weird question. I turn to him, needing to see his face, to see if it was real. He is looking up at the ceiling a little. I tilt my head at him, he asks again. “Can you trust me?”

“S-sure?” I laugh nervously. “I- Why?”

“IknowwhatyouarebecauseImamagictoo.” He breathes. It's a jumbled mess.

“What?”

“I know what youarebecauseImamagictoo.” He knows what I am? This can’t be good. I glance behind me to the door and start backing toward it. I’ve heard of monster hunters and what they do to my kind. My head is swimming with visions of torture and my eminent death. “Please! I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I should go…”

“I want to help you.” He backs away and holds up his hands. “I’m an angel. You’re a vampire. Everyone in my building too. Sharon is a fae, her girlfriend is a nymph. Victor is a domovoy. Q is a Pixie.”

“T-that’s crazy. Monsters?” How the hell? My back bumps the wall, I have nowhere else to go. How can he help? This apartment is a big, glowing target. A monster hunter’s dream. “Impossible.”

“Let me help you.” He pleads.

“What can you do? Cure me?” I shake my head in disbelief. 

“You are a vampire, right?” He leads me to the kitchen. “How often do you need blood?”

“Once every...month or two.” After that I lash out on the closest living thing and suck it dry. The bloodlust has only happened a few times but I hope it never happens again. I’m extra careful to walk the tightrope’s edge between starvation and bloodlust. 

“Try again.” He clicks his tongue and shuffles around the kitchen after pointing me into a stool. “Most vampires are starving after three weeks. When was the last time you got any blood?”

“I don’t remember.” I say instead of five weeks, three days, seven hours and fifty eight minutes. 

“Well then, that settles it.” Before I can think he reaches into the drawer and pulls out a sharp silver knife. I jerk back instinctively, almost knocking the stool over. He places the knife against his wrist, right at the base of his palm. I lunge forward to stop him from doing the idiotic thing he’s about to do. The sweet smell of his blood fills my nose again.

“No.” My voice cracks and I stumble back away. “Stop.”

“Come here.” I don’t dare look up. “It’s alright.”

My head is pounding. The sharp fangs start crowding my mouth again. I see the steady drip of blood, leaking from the cut. He offers it up. But why?

“Why?” I can barely breathe. Each inhale I can practically taste the fresh magical bood inches from my face. Each exhale feels like it'll be my last. 

“I’ll heal.” He smiles at me. Smiles! As if he isn’t offering his blood for me to drink.

So I hold his arm in my hands. Then I drink. The feeling never gets any better. Warm blood sliding down my throat, the sharp penny taste filling my mouth.

I step back. I have a few bandaids in a pocket, so I fish one out and cover the cut, keeping it closed. 

That’s when I feel it. It’s like glowing. Like sparks going off on every part of my body. I feel my powers sinking back into my bones. A brush rushes to my cheeks and I can feel my heart thudding with excitement against my chest. My ears twitch with the sounds of the building. Conversations and TV commercials. I can hear Andrew’s heartbeat, loud and fast. I must be scaring him. When our eyes meet, the thumping grows faster. Then the startling sweet smell of norepinephrine fills my nose. Dopamine and serotonin. Not a trace of fear. 

“Are you alright?” 

“My powers, they’re back.” 

“Back?” His face scrunches up in confusion. “I didn’t know you could get rid of them.”

“They slowly fade when I’m hungry.”

“What powers do you have?” His face lights up like a kid on Christmas. It falls a little a second after. “I don’t have much, not like you guys.”

“I have extra good hearing and sight. I run fast and heal faster. That's only after I drink the blood of some innocent person.”

“You have me now.” He pulls the bandaid off to reveal the cut fully healed. “I heal quickly too. Sometimes, I know things about people and other than tiny miracles, I’m powerless.” 

“Miracles?”

“I have to pray for the big ones but small ones I’m allowed to perform on my own.”

“Can you show me?” I hope it's not insensitive. He takes my hand and leads me to the window that faces the street. We look out the window for a few moments before we spot someone walking. Andrew frowns slightly. 

“He’s on the run from his most recent foster home. Nasty stuff.” He shivers and waves his hand a little. Something catches the boy’s eye. He picks it up off the street and examines it. A wallet. Huh, some miracle. He rifles through it and looks at something, glancing around. Andrew pulls me away from the window with a smile. “Now we wait.”

He bustles around the apartment. Putting the kettle on the stove. Grabbing some blankets from a closet. On his way past me, he tapped my nose lightly. Maybe five minutes later there’s a knock on the door.

“Sit on the couch?” He murmurs to me as he passes. I put a blanket around my shoulders and grab a magazine to keep me ‘busy’. With my powers restored, it's not hard to eavesdrop. 

The door opens. 

A boy’s voice asks, “Are you Mr. LaChance?”

He has a light stutter, his heart rate is too fast.

“Is that my wallet?” Andrew asks, “Thank you so much, please come in, I just put the kettle on. Do you like hot chocolate?”

The boy is nervous. Closer to scared. His stomach is empty and rumbling though so he steps inside.

Andrew pours cocoa in the kitchen for all three of us. Andrew brings me my mug with a smile then goes back to the kitchen. The boy is shivering so Andrew brings him back a blanket. The boy still seems scared but a little less on edge.

“Where’d you find my wallet?”

“Just across the street.”

“Was there any money in it?” 

“N-no, I swear. I didn’t take anything.” His stutter creeps back into his voice.

“Then you deserve a reward.” Andrew must be smiling cause relief floods through the boy. “How about some cash? Finish up your cocoa while I find some money.”

Footsteps come toward me. Andrew sits on the couch with a sigh. “Dealing with kids like him drains me so much. It just breaks my heart. At least I can help. Watch this.”

He opens the wallet, closes it and opens it again. This time it has a thick stack of bills in it. “Tah-dah!” He counts out a thousand dollars before patting my hand and walking back to the kitchen.

“Here’s some cash but can I get you anything else? I have some old clothes I was going to donate or maybe I could make you some food for the road.”

“Um.” The boy seems shocked into silence. “All I did was find your wallet, sir. It didn’t even have any money in it. And h-how did you know I was travelling?”

“It’s very late. You’re by yourself. I’m just good at guessing things about people I suppose.” He pauses to sip his cocoa before continuing. “Worn shoes, hand-me-down clothes, always checking the exits and you are taking every scrap of what you’re given. Foster homes for as long as you can remember, right?”

“Uh...yeah.” His voice is squeaky and embarrassed.

“I grew up in a similar situation so now I go out of my way to help out everyone I can.”

“This is too much money.” 

“No, it’s not.” Andrew stands up and pours another cup of cocoa. “You won’t get in a car with me, I’ll call you a cab so you can get to a hotel safely. Do you have a plan?”

“My sister just turned 18 and got out of the system. She wants to become my guardian.”

“She live close?” 

“Two cities over.”

“The cab will take you for a price, let me call you one. How about you sit with my friend and watch TV while I clean up here and make the call?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“Bernadette?” He calls. He must know I heard everything they said but he pretends I was actually interested in the...house decor magazine on my lap. I head to the kitchen and see the boy for the first time. He is young, fifteen maybe. Wide brown eyes and dirty brown hair. All sharp elbows and hollow cheeks. Poor kid. “I’m calling a cab for this nice boy. Watch some TV, yeah?”

“Sure thing.” I smile at the boy and jerk my head toward the living room. “This way, kid.”

I grab the remote off the coffee table and turn on the TV. The kid, who still has no name, sits on the furthest spot from me. I know better than to be offended.

“What’s your name?” I ask without looking over. Episodes of shows I’ve never seen scroll by. I settle on a Disney movie I haven’t seen since I was a kid. 

“Mark.” Funny. Of course he has the name of a musical character.

“Have you ever seen ‘Rent’?” He seems surprised at my choice of a follow up question.

“No.” He says slowly as if there’s some wrong answer. 

“There’s a character named Mark. Mark Cohen. Sorry, that’s just how I think.”

“What are the girl characters’ names?” I see where this is going.

“Joanne, Maureen, Mimi.” He just nods. “I guess the name ‘Angel’ goes both ways?”

He smiles a tiny little thing, nodding. “My sister’s name is Angela. We always wondered how our parents picked the names.”

“Theater nerds like me.” I glance around for something to write with. A pen in a jar next to the TV. I rip a page out of the magazine and write down the title. “‘Rent, 2008 Live Performance’. Look it up once you get where you’re going. It should be online for free.”

“Cab’s here.” Andrew says from the kitchen. Mark straightens up and gives me a small wave before walking toward the door. “Here’s my number. Call me when you get there, okay? Call me even if nothings wrong.”

“Thank you.” The door shuts and Andrew sighs.

He walks over stopping just short of the couch. After a pause, he sits beside me. I keep my eyes glued to the screen even when he stares staring at me instead. He seems to be thinking about something so I let it go on for a while. The movie stops for commercials and I finally turn to face him.

“That wasn’t a small miracle.” I tap his nose like he did to me. “That was a giant life changing miracle.”

“Two in one day, I’m tired.” He leans against me a little. “This apartment building is for magical beings. There’s an apartment left but I don’t want you to take it. I think you shouldmoveinwithme?”

This time I catch the words for what they are. He wants me to move in with him? We met today. Granted, lots has happened. I face him and smile. “Sure.”

He looks at me funny as his heart starts to race again. His eyes flick to my lips. It’s obviously his way of telling me that he wants to kiss me. Can he work up the courage? I just keep looking back and quirk one of my eyebrows up a little. He cups my jaw, leans in and...we’re kissing. 

It's like everything I’ve ever thought kissing should be. I feel like I’m in a movie the music has just crescendoed. It’s the kind of kiss that Shakespeare makes monologues about. The kind that feels like touching a wire. It tastes like a spoonful of stardust. He pulls away after a few seconds but I lean after him. 

That becomes my future: watching him perform ‘little’ miracles, not walking the tightrope of starvation, befriending the neighbors, and stealing kisses between it all. My life becomes easy and domestic. The building keeps away monster hunters so I start to relax. I pick up hobbies again, no longer thinking of running. 

We keep our question game going, learning the smallest details to the biggest. He likes plain cheese pizza, giraffes and cooking. It’s a few months after we first met that he tells me what the biggest miracle he's ever done is: saving me from dying of hypothermia that night. I learn the story of how he became an angel and I tell him about how I got turned.

Weeks pass then months then years. We stay happy and content. A feeling in the back of my mind told me the other shoe would drop, that something bad had to come to offset all this good. The feeling faded after the first decade and completely forgotten by the second. 

Maybe this was the other shoe. _This_ was the good that offset all the bad.

So we live together, a vampire and an angel until we are husband and wife. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Please leave me a comment letting me know what you thought.


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